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a poem

  • Jun 17
  • 2 min read

the catalpa trees have begun

to release their blooms

their smell is subtle, simple, and

sweet like rain


if i were a fairy, her white petals

with yellow streaks and purple flecks,

would hold my slumber,

restorative and peaceful and deep


there is a deer in the field,

she is quiet, kind, and beautiful

sometimes we unite,

hearts together


my palms open, her ears twitching

our eyes reciprocating, a love

beyond words

that is true and pure


the worms in the soil are full,

of humus, joy, and being,

they are happy as they are, small, slimy,

but nonetheless -


friendly, playful, squirmy, alive,

not less, only different

these decomposers have souls

just like you and me


there is a home for me at the river

with my mother, the water, the earth,

she flows

without thought or resistance


surrendered to gravity and all of its

implications, through calm and storm

she retains her grace, moving,

always moving,


toward alignment

and harmony and balance,

nourishing the creatures at her banks,

unconditionally, abundantly, maternally -


the birds sing my name,

soft and slicing, their notes

float through the air

like a tune i am remembering


each unique, individual,

intelligent in its own perfect design -

wings that reflect my own

and say, 'it is time to soar my dear'


this poem exists just to be

a poem, for love and beauty,

for flowers, doe, compost, streams, avians,

for the connections between them,


the oneness that is -

the essence of summer, with its warmth and sun

inspiring our world to awaken, to return

to who we truly are


may we rise in the light of source,

i love you.


♡, fin

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1 Comment


Samsa
Jun 18

Reminds me of swan lake.


I sit in the audience, watching the stage and the dancers. Yet what I see is not what truly matters. The music makes me feel, the audience transforms it into an experience, and the light turns faint impressions into a masterpiece.


Your words learn the music by heart and rehearse every step. But what would they be without all that which turns a meaningless letter into a feeling?


It reads less like a collection of images and more like a melody that reminds us we are not separate from the world, but a part of its dance.


Beautiful.

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